


Origin Story

by FireEye



Series: In the Shadow of the Light [1]
Category: Final Fantasy I
Genre: Gen, Novelization
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2001-11-03
Updated: 2001-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The World is Veiled in Darkness, and so on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Origin Story

**Origin Story**

 

_Why for do we remember?_

If it does truly make a difference, then why for do we forget?

It is not wise to say the world was always as it was, nor that it will always be the same. That which we know is here this instant may to not be the next. So much happened between then and now, that there is nothing to say it lies here and not in a dream, if'en it happened at all.

It is said that when the Earth fell to the shadows, it lost more than it could recover in an age. An underestimation, but we have yet to reach the chance at the Restoration.

Ages ago, say the new people, there were the Children of the Earth… someday they will return, they always said…

Who here knows for sure?

And the Children of the Stars, where do they come in?

Ages ago, Fate was challenged. Do we now fight Destiny in vain?

Ages ago, Earth was roused from its slumber in a cry of pain. The World of Dreams was fused with ours; do we give up enlightenment to remain sane?

Or is this the final fantasy destined to last forever?

 

**Prologue**

 

The metal beast floated effortlessly through the mass of bodiless ether binding the universe together. In its belly rested the last hope of the civilized worlds – as disjointed as they already had become. The behemoth's numerous glass eyes gazed blindly into the darkness of space, to Earth, its sun, and its moons.

Feeling smaller than any of it, the humanoid watched the universe from behind the thick pane of glass. The slow movements of the stars, imperceptible to fixed place and small life, did little to ease the misgivings of the soul. She leaned against the glass, aching to be a part of that vast expanse of nothing. Yet, if death were that release, she was unwilling to fulfil the yearning of the call. She would not have called it fear; rather it was a simple acceptance of the duty she had the misfortune of being born to.

A slight _ting_ rang between the magnetic strips on the woman's boots and the floor as she shifted her weight. Despite the marginal gravity, and with the help of the magnets, she managed a semblance of posture as she might have on Luna. Or Earth, for that matter – they were supposed to be similar.

Flutters of softer stuff against metal rushed through the still air to sensitive, tapered ears. The woman tilted her head away from the light; illumination from pale green eyes cast a shadow over her face, hiding a scatter of pale freckles.

The human, for it was a human, smiled down at her from the designated ceiling. Although, in Zero-G, it truly made little difference what part of the metal confines one wished to adhere to. Short, fluffy brown hair stood on end, moving liquid-like when trailing the head it attached to before stopping to explore its bounds again. Equally playful mahogany eyes blinked once in the sunlight reflected off the ship's hull.

Silence. Not the dead, stifling silence of space, but verbal quiet under the hum of magic and electricity.

In the past, there was little enough to communicate that they needed to speak. Now, there was a break in that reticence; it was a remark that spoke more than its words.

"He thinks we can't do it."

The man's smile faded to a shadow of its sincerity, and he stepped beside his friend. On level with her shoulders, a bit different than had they been on the same surface, he watched her turn again to the window. He had not heard of dissent, but there were many things of which he was ignorant.

"I'm sure a lot of them don't think we can do it," he traced the thought along the stars, pouring his own trust into her confidence, "Which only means we'll have to show them better."

There was no comfort to be given; it would have been rejected if there were. There was one certain thing, the goal, and no sure path to it. All questions, no answers, and only a sense of dread anticipation to tide them over.

 

~-~-~

 

Wakefulness came, suddenly, but with no outward indication. To eyes that opened slowly, more interesting than the dream world was the tinny resounding of feet trying too hard to stay to the ground in an environment that would not have it.

Dropping away from the tier into freefall, the being that knew let the far wall approach, stopping at an arm's length to further survey the circumstance. A tainted smile graced an all too innocent face as pure frosted cerulean scrutinized the unawares below.

The one did not matter, or at least not in the same way. The other was… different. It was a fusion of physiology that struck a potent quintessence in a bad way; it was an abomination.

Using the movement of the ship and natural inertia, with a liquid grace fell upon the victims of choice… only to be pushed back by a sudden, although not entirely unknown force – made worse by the freefall.

 

The young magician barely turned to face their assailant as the azure elf was pushed back. Inefficient would be words of _no_ or _bad_, so he settled for a bored, irate glare, and doubled pace to catch up with his friend.

"I could have done it," the woman whispered, her fingers already curled to her palms under the pretense of an impending confrontation.

"You shouldn't have to." It was truth – an issue that should not have been.

 

~-~-~

 

Of the ancient race, there were few that did not remember the old forms, and the old life. However, very few that lived now remembered the transition, when the beings abandoned their old bodies for the human form. They had changed, since then, forcing their adopted world to change with them.

Of the oldest of this race was a handful that had survived the span of time since the changes had begun. Generations of humans passed, while the first of the amalgamations of fresh human bodies and ancient souls kept their weakening forms solid. They became immortal through willpower alone.

The most ancient of the beings ruled their younger kin, and took it upon themselves to maintain the well being of the blue planet and its inhabitants – near cousins, and creations, as well as the natural life they felt responsible for protecting.

But the Earth began to decay, and the source was not apparent to the Ancients. In their search for the cause, they had found a different curiosity… and exploited it for their own in the hope that the act would aid them in their effort.

Redemption was worth any cost.

 

~-~-~

 

If the most ancient among the order were as wizened as a true human of equal years had been, there would be little left of but an emaciated core of weathered bones, if that at all. Through sheer effort, the Emissary retained a grandfatherly physique. It was not the most impressive, for the oldest, the First of the First and most revered of the Order, managed to maintain her body as it were in its human prime.

Not her, her surrogate for the trip sat upright, leaving his hands on his lap. The youngsters stood before him, not the rare children of his race, but the adopted hope: the Children of the Earth itself.

"I hope you understand why our plans have changed," the Emissary spoke with a quiet dignity, and, unbidden eyes of the chosen sought out the elfling that stood closer to, but apart from the three of them closely gathered in the center of the room. If there was a hidden reason to an early departure, he was a part of it.

"For what we have seen, haste is an issue," the Ancient continued, feigning ignorance to the blame as it was lain placed, "The planet is dying, and the longer this goes on, the less of a chance you will have of stopping it. If it were our choice, out aid would be great…"

The great tragedy of sending mere children to battle forces which eluded even the greatest mystic or scientist among their own people was a task that weighed heavily on the lone harbinger, and his aged lungs breathed the false air with great difficulty.

"But for that every attempt we made has done less good than harm, and we now fear our harmony with the Earth is skewed…"

"What you try to say is that your people are too old and afraid to risk your lives for the good of _our_ home," the young elf answered the speech with malice harbored over years of this structured life. Although his keepers understood the emotion, they felt it was not merited; it would not contribute to the greater good, and so was dissuaded. But he never recognized their hints as such.

"Old may I be, but still strong enough to put insolent youth to its ruin." The warning was enough, and the Emissary ended his oration, "We have assisted you as well as we now dare, knowing what we do. There are those who will help you on your journey, and the hand of Destiny shall guide and protect you in times of need."

The imbalance is reflected in the Orbs… we know not what corrupted them, but they are now your responsibility to bear."

We can do no more but pray."


End file.
